


Smoke and Mirrors

by CoffeeQuill



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Arrogant Fili, Brother Feels, Comatose, Comatose Bilbo, Durincest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Durincest, Family Feels, Gold Sickness, Hurt Bilbo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Thorin, Sick Character, Thorin-centric, Trauma, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the sight of Bilbo in Azog's clutches, Thorin was horrified. When the sword stabbed through his chest, he was heartbroken. When he fell from the tower, he was shattered.</p><p>Bilbo has survived but is in a deep sleep, far beyond their reach. After the trauma of the battle, Kili is declared unstable by the healers. Fili struggles under the weight of a new position and puts up unfaltering shields around himself. Hundreds of dwarrow lay on death's doorstep in Erebor after the vicious battle.</p><p>AU in which Bilbo switches places with Fili, and Thorin is left to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sorrowful Regrets

It was a mistake.

He should have listened.

It’s too late, he thinks, as he dangles from Azog’s clutches.

Tears fill his eyes, his heart is racing in his chest. He’s never felt so afraid and so numb at the same time; he can only stare down at the distance between him in the ground. He’s trembling, curling his toes.

Hobbits were never meant to be high, after all.

“Bilbo!”

It’s Kili. Kili sounds so broken, his voice cracking as he screams. Bilbo struggles to focus his gaze; Fili is holding his brother’s arm, holding him back. Dwalin is looking away.

Thorin.

Thorin.

The king is paralyzed, immobile as he stares at the dangling hobbit. Tears flood Bilbo’s eyes. “Th-Thorin,” he manages, before coughing up blood; it comes out as a pained whimper.

Thorin drops his sword.

You idiot.

“Run,” he whispers, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Please... It’s a trap!”

Azog gives him a hard shake and he lets out a cry of pain, his injuries being jostled and only oozing more blood and puss. His clothes are sticking to him and he wants to scream in pain as the blade presses further into his skin, twisting at the small of his back.

The dwarves’ vision shifts just enough. Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo sees the sneering orc step forward with the long pole; hanging at the end is the mithril shirt, like a flag of victory.

The blood loss is becoming worse. He knows he’s slipping into shock.

Dwalin is speaking. Kili lets out a cry of “NO!” but Fili is pulling him, dragging him away as Dwalin follows.

Thorin doesn’t move. Thorin is just staring at him.

Run. Please. Don’t die because of me.

“Thorin,” he gasps out, struggling to hold onto consciousness. “Please... You have to run! It’s all a trap!”

He still doesn’t move. Bilbo only lets out a sob, closing his eyes tightly as tears fall.

Just kill me. Stop dragging this out. Just kill me.

Azog snarls in his ear. He knows this is the end. The rusted blade pushes in deeper, he sobs again.

“I love you!” He screams out. His last words might as well be professing his feelings.

The blade slices through him, he doesn’t have the energy to scream. He lets out a shaky breath and whimpers in pain. He feels the sensation of falling, of the wind whipping past him as he descends. Thorin screams.

He’s unconscious as soon as he hits the stone.

\----

Thorin is already sprinting across the ice before Bilbo lands.

He’s crying already, falling to his knees and sliding through snow and blood beside his hobbit’s corpse. With a sob, he’s checking his pulse, gathering the broken burglar into his arms as tears stream down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding him close against his chest with an iron grip. His tears fall on Bilbo’s coat and he’s whispering the apologies against the hobbit’s cold cheek, standing with him in his arms. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you...”

A weak groan. Bilbo's chest moves barely an inch, up and down, but he's breathing and that's all Thorin needs to stand and cradle him closer. “Keep that,” he whispers, clutching at him desperately. “Keeping breathing, please, Bilbo, keep...”

“Thorin!”

It's Dwalin, standing only thirty yards away on the ice. “We have to go,” he says, the trembling evident in his voice. “Th-The orcs are coming.”

Thorin stares at him a moment. Then his words register, and he nods, running towards him across the ice. Quickly Dwalin is running beside him.

They reach the steps where Fili and Kili are waiting, and Kili lets out a loud sob at the sight of the unconscious hobbit. “Bilbo,” he wails, collapsing to his knees, and Fili grabs at him, struggling to pull him back up.

Kili's tears match his own. “He's breathing,” Thorin says quietly, before walking to the steps and beginning to walk down.

Fili manages to pick Kili up on his back, carrying him, and they all hurry down the steps with a nervous haste as they return to the mountain.

–

“He's alive,” Oin says quietly.

Bilbo is laid in his own bed in a Erebor, wrapped in several warm layers of blankets with fresh, newly washed and ironed clothes from the mountain. His face is washed, every injury treated, and a fresh hot bowl of soup is sitting on the table beside the bed. The room isn't very big but simple, with a warm and roaring fireplace; Bilbo would insist on it.

“Alive but asleep,” Dwalin says from the doorway.

Thorin sits in a chair beside the bed, running his thumb over the back of the hobbit's hand. “Comatose?” He asks softly.

“Aye. No medicine in this world can wake him up... He'll have to do it on his own.” Oin looks away, then walks to the door. “I have to check on Kili.”

“How's the lad?” Dwalin asks, letting him pass.

Oin glances at him. “... Not good.”

The healer walks down the hall and Thorin stays quiet, rubbing phrases in khuzdul into the back of his hobbit's hand.

Dwalin walks up behind him, setting a hand on the chair. “You should go find Fili,” he says. “I'll watch him.”

“Fili can handle himself.”

“He's still a boy. He can't lead these people on his own, not yet.”

Thorin doesn't reply. He squeezes Bilbo's hand; he knows Balin is helping Fili keep everything organized inside the mountain, so he isn't on his own.

“At least go see Kili. Both your boys need you right now. Bilbo will still be here when you get back...”

“And what if I'm not here when he wakes up?” Thorin huffs. “My nephews are alright.”

“Kili isn't. Three physicians from the Iron Hills are here and they all agree that he's disturbed. This morning they declared him depressed and unstable.”

Thorin looks up at him with alarm in his eyes. “Unstable?”

“He cries himself to sleep and screams like every single dream is a nightmare. He doesn't get out of bed and he stares at the walls when the physicians try to talk to him. Fili is too busy to stay with him and he _needs_ you more than Bilbo does right now. No one else has been able to get through to him.”

Thorin looks to Bilbo, tightly squeezing his hand. “He should have Fili...”

“He doesn't. Fili's too busy trying to keep things in order. Now go.”

Thorin gazes at his hobbit before shakily, he stands, forcing his legs to work. He walks from the room and glances around the corridors before he makes a right turn, heading to the healing halls.

The halls are full of cots and in them, injured dwarves. Most are wrapped tight with bloody bandages and some are sitting up and talking, while others are curled up and asleep or whimpering with pain. The sight hits Thorin like a jagged stone wall and emotional pain explodes in his chest as he stops and stares; he caused this, with his own blind greed. Dwarves, both young and old from Dain's army, lay injured or dying or crippled for life.

“Thorin!”

Thorin jumps in surprise at both the voice and the hand on his shoulder. He spins around to face Bofur – his once jovial eyes are pale and pained, with dark circles beneath his eyes. “Are you here for Kili?”

Thorin nods. “Dwalin told me he's...”

“Unstable.” Bofur shakes his head. “I've never seen the lad so shut in. He won't eat anything, either. It's like his mind is still at Ravenhill.”

_Ravenhill._

Bofur begins to walk through the hall and Thorin follows. “Where is Fili?” he asks tentatively.

Bofur sighs. “I don't know exactly where he is, but he's been spending all his time in thehigher levels, with Balin and Dain. Running things, establishing the best order they can. He's... been avoiding Kili, actually.”

“Avoiding him?” Doesn't sound like his nephew. Fili would be at his brother's side, holding him close and whispering words of love to him. Not avoiding. Anything but avoiding.

“Aye. I don't understand it myself, but... they've fallen apart, it seems. Screaming at each other whenever they're in the same room. Fili was trying to talk some sense into him, but Kili just wouldn't have it, and they've been fighting since. It's terrible to watch – I think you, of all people, could fix it.”

Thorin takes a deep breath. “I'm not so sure anymore.”

Bofur gives him a slight frown before opening a door and walking in. There, two healers from the Iron Hills are sitting at a table, talking. One looks up from a pile of papers, “Your majesty?”

“Where's Kili?” Thorin asks, his voice cracking.

The healer seems to sigh though it's hidden. “In there, but don't count on getting much of a response right now.” He gestures towards another doorway that leads to a dark room and Thorin bites his lip before walking in.

The room is shrouded in darkness except for a single small candle, burning on the bedside table that barely illuminates anything. Thorin walks over and finds a lantern sitting on the table; finding the switch, he flicks it and the lantern flickers to life, casting shadows on the wall.

Kili is curled up in the bed, his back to Thorin with the covers pulled up to show only his knotted brown hair. He shifts only just enough to creak on the mattress and Thorin sits on the edge of the bed, hesitant on how to start.

“Kili?” he whispers, gently setting a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

Kili's reaction is so instantaneous, shrugging his hand over and shifting just an inch away, that Thorin wouldn't have noticed if he'd blinked. Silence fills the room and Thorin frowns. “Kili. Look at me.”

More silence follows and it's haunting. Kili never ignored him, always mumbling a greeting even if he was ill or upset. If not a greeting, then some sort of acknowledgment – not this painful lack of response. “Kili,” he tries again, taking a gentle hold on the boy's shoulder.

His hand is smacked away harshly. “Don't _touch_ me,” Kili snarls, looking over his shoulder at Thorin; heavy dark circles are under his eyes, his face pale and eyes red from crying and devoid of the hope that had once been there. He looks gaunt and miserable even as he glares at Thorin.

Thorin nearly moves away but instead looks on at him, setting his hand back at his side. “I'm sorry. You... look terrible.”

Of all the words to say, those come out of his mouth.

Kili's eyes narrow before he turns and burrows back under the covers, curling in on himself. “Go away.”

“Bofur said you aren't eating.” Thorin adjusts himself on the mattress. “I don't know what's-”

“What did the healers say?” Kili asks, cutting him off. His voice is muffled from the blankets.

Thorin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“About me. I know they're talking. Do they think I'm unstable?”

Thorin hesitates. “I don't know,” he says, unsure if Kili should be told that if was, in fact, considered to be irrational.

Kili huffs and turns over. Thorin glances to a full plate of food sitting at the foot of the bed and says, “You need to eat.”

“I don't.”

“Kili,” Thorin says, and his tone becomes gentle. “Please. You have to eat, before you make yourself worse.”

“Worse?”

“You look ill.” Thorin smooths some hair away from Kili's face. “At least talk to me. What's happening between you and Fili?”

Kili sits up, and he looks at him with his hostility slowly fading. “He hates me now.”

“What? Neither of you could ever hate each other. You're too close for that.” Thorin takes Kili's hand and squeezes it.

“No.” Kili shakes his head, taking deep breaths as if to calm himself. “He... He doesn't understand. I don't want to eat. I don't want baths. I don't want the responsibility. I... I don't want to live. Not after...”

 _Some dwarves' minds can't handle the trauma of battle._ Thorin remembers Thrain explaining to him, after seeing and hearing one said dwarf who had been the lone survivor of a group sent out to deal with some lurking orcs. _They see too much death and bloodshed and their minds don't cope._

He squeezes Kili's hand in his own. “You're too young to be wanting death, Kee,” he whispers, his other hand coming up to cup Kili's cheek. “Much too young. You've got a whole life ahead to enjoy. You've survived the battle.”

“I don't deserve to,” Kili whimpers, his eyes filling with tears. “I... Bilbo...”

“Bilbo is alive, Kili,” Thorin says. “Comatose, but alive. Oin is taking care of him, and I know he'll wake up. He would hate to see you like this.”

Kili looks down, two tears falling from his eyes. Thorin draws the boy into his arms and holds him against his chest, and Kili falls limp against him, shuddering with held-in sobs. He doesn't speak, gently rocking him to calm him down.

It's hard to believe the healers would declare him unstable.

Kili's face burrows between his neck and shoulder, gripping his clothes as a sob forces its way out of him. A second follows, then a third, and Thorin couldn't move if he tried – not that he wanted to. He stroked Kili's hair – he desperately needed a bath – and kissed his temple. “I'm sorry for all of this, Kili,” he whispered, gently combing out his brown locks. “It's my fault...”

“Uncle?”

Thorin and Kili both look up at Fili, who's standing in the doorway; he's wearing a clean red tunic beneath a fur coat similar to the one he'd lost, and brown trousers beneath. He's free of any jewelry or riches. Thorin can feel Kili tense up in his arms and begin to shrink away from his hold.

He draws him back. “Give us a minute,” he tells Fili, who looks at him with furrowed brows and an almost hurt expression but steps out of sight. Kili sniffles and looks up at him.

“He acts like he's so high and mighty now,” Kili whispers. “Like... like stories we'd read. I'm the illegitimate peasant brother and Fili's the king who has to deal with me out of obligation.”

It's an oddly specific comparison.

“Is that how he acts?” Thorin frowns and rubs his back. “Is he... anywhere near the gold?”

“Avoids it like the plague. Everyone does. But it couldn't... still affect him, could it?”

“If it does, then I hope that the worst it'll do is give him a big ego.”

“He _is_ that, though. Arrogant and with a big ego. I think you just crushed it a little, turning him away like that for me.” He smiles up at Thorin, and it's the first smile he's seen. Thorin smiles back and kisses his cheek, letting Kili burrow back into his arms.

He gently rocks his nephew for a few moments before he pulls away. “Try to eat, Kili. You can't let yourself wither away, not when you have a life in Erebor to look forward to.

At his words, Kili's happy expression fades away. “Don't go,” is all he says. “Please... don't leave me.”

“I can't stay here. I need to talk to your brother and see Bilbo.” Thorin ran a hand over Kili's hair to smooth it down. Then he stands and walks to the door.

He doesn't miss the look of sad betrayal Kili is giving him before sliding back under the covers.

“So you got a decent conversation out of him,” Fili says with a bitter tone as Thorin walks out of the room, though the annoyance isn't directed at the king. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and as Kili said, he holds a mighty aura, head held high with royalty. The healers are gone, leaving just the two of them in the small room.

“I can see that you've been around Dain,” Thorin remarks dryly.

Fili's scowl softens to a neutral expression and his arms drop to his sides, standing straight. “You weren't around.”

“You'll have to explain to me, this quarrel you and Kili are having.”

The scowl returns. “I'm surprised the healers didn't give their ruling sooner. He does act mad, wailing and going on about dreams he has, something like that. I don't get why he'd be acting so normal with you and not anyone else.”

“Two months ago, you would've been at his side every hour of every day, being his comforter. And he would be doing the exact same. What changed?”

Fili glances towards the door with eyes that Thorin can't read. “The battle changed things,” he says. “We grew up.”

They grew up. So had Thorin, after the battle at Moria. He should have expected that such a thing would-

The realization smashes into his mind like the sight of the injured dwarves had. A battle for a dwarven kingdom, hundreds dead, and a young prince at the middle of it; losing his family in ways that couldn't be understood, forced to take up a leadership position.

He can see himself in Fili now; see the raw fear and anxiety hidden beneath a protective layer of arrogance and egotistical mannerisms.

 _Frerin_.

_Kili._

In two strides he walks up to Fili, who simply looks up at him; Thorin can see the shields slip just a bit before slamming up. With a gentle touch, he cups Fili's cheek and kisses between his eyes.

“Don't let him slip away, Fili,” he says, running his thumb over his light beard. “One day you'll want him back and he won't be there.”

Fili's quiet, and finally the shields slide away; he swallows visibly as his eyes glisten. “Do you mean... Frerin?” The name has seldom been spoken, remaining an open wound in Thorin and Dis' lives.

“Yes. I've told you about the fight we had before Azanulbizar.” His chest aches at the thought. “The things we said to each other. What I wish I could take back before the orcs took him from me – I never could apologize. Please, Fili, don't let it end that way with you and Kili. It's been a lifetime of regret for me.”

“I...” Fili glances towards the door again. “He doesn't listen. He won't. I can't get him to eat, he just growls at me to stay away from him and that something's my fault. It's awful and I can't deal with him.”

“He is your brother, not something to be dealt with. He's in no state to initiate anything, you have to do it.” Thorin steps away – part of him longs to rejoin Bilbo.

As soon as he does, the shields slam back up and Fili straightens, eyes becoming cold as he looks at him. “I'll _try_.” The emphasis is on the second word.

Thorin looks at him and sighs before he turns and walks from the room.

 


	2. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wishes he could fix it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated!!
> 
> Excuse the scene changes in this chapter. All the skips are really just Thorin walking somewhere, but it all takes place on the same day.

Cold. Still. Breathing.

Thorin keeps Bilbo's palm pressed against his cheek, eyes closed; Bilbo's hands have grown callused over the journey, from the use of his little sword and climbing over rocks and up trees. It almost seems like a crime, to take away the gentle softness that had once been there.

_I love you._

Thorin takes a deep breath. Bilbo's last words had been ones they'd both been dancing around, refusing to speak them. He had planned to start a courtship after the battle, but he should have done it sooner. He should have told Bilbo how much he means to him, not cast him out with hateful words.

He has so many regrets.

Their first touches had started at Beorn's; hesitant kisses, awkwardly pressing close, trying to find what was comfortable for both of them. Finding how soft Bilbo's curls were, the sensitivity of the tips of his ears, that their hands fit together perfectly. It took time, but when they finally left for Mirkwood, both were comfortable with laying in each other's arms.

How far away, it all seems now. Their hands still fit together, but it's no longer a loving gesture that they had created in Mirkwood and Laketown to reassure themselves that the other was there. Closing his eyes tight, he tries to imagine that they're still in that time of everything being okay. Being consistent.

Bilbo's fingers twitch and Thorin looks up quickly with wide eyes, but Bilbo doesn't move, doesn't make a sound except the sound of his breathing and the motion of his chest. _Just a muscle spasm_ , he thinks to himself, his heart fluttering with disappointment. How many false hopes will come and go before Bilbo wakes up?

He heaves a sigh and takes the cup of water from the table, and with a steady hand, dribbles just a bit into the hobbit's mouth and over his dry lips. Setting the cup back, he kisses him softly. “I'll be waiting for you, my love,” he whispers, squeezing Bilbo's hand.

That's what Bilbo is. His lover. His soulmate. The only one who had been willing to cross him in his gold sickness, the one who got them out of so many scrapes. How can he ever tell him how much he means to him?

“Kili needs you,” Thorin whispers. “He's in a bad place right now and he liked you from the start. Only you and Fili seemed to be able to get on his level.” He sighs heavily, “I need you. I wish I could handle all of this on my own.”

The door creaks open behind him but he pays it no mind, too caught up in the features of Bilbo's face to care who comes in.

“Are you alright, lad?” It's Balin. The door closes softly and footsteps approach the bed.

“I will be when he wakes,” Thorin mutters.

Balin pulls a chair over to sit beside him. “So you visited Kili.”

Thorin stops, looking for a response before saying, “He's doing awful.”

“He is. They both need you right now.” Balin sets a hand on his shoulder, looking at him. “I think you should spend some time with Fili. He's been with Dain too much.”

“He's taking on his arrogance,” Thorin sighs.

“He's doing the best he can.”

And Thorin knows he is. He's _proud_ of Fili for everything that has happened; his bravery during the quest, his loyalty, and now the fact that he's stepped up to be the leader Thorin has trained him to be his whole life. He only wishes he were again under Thorin's guidance, rather than Dain's.

Dain could be very confident in himself, to the point of annoying arrogance.

“Did Kili eat last night?” Thorin asks, his heart clenching at the thought of his sister-son, his traumatized mind in turmoil.

“He ate some fish. It's more than he's had for days.” Balin leans back in his chair, his eyes gliding over Bilbo's sleeping form with pity. “This wasn't the glorious return we thought it would be.”

A damaged nephew. Countless dead. A nephew estranging himself. His One in a coma, toeing the line between life and death.

No, this was far from glory.

He sighs heavily and sets Bilbo's hand back at his side. “It's my fault,” he says softly. “If I hadn't fallen to the sickness...”

“I'm rather glad things have gone this way.”

Thorin looks at his friend with surprise and furrowed brows. “Why?”

“The situation is bad, but every Company member is _alive_. The line of Durin could have ended on Ravenhill. Kili can heal, Fili can adjust, Bilbo can wake.” Balin squeezes his shoulder gently. “Not all is hopeless.”

Thorin takes a deep breath and nods. Balin's right; things can change for the better. There's foundation to build on and by the look of things, there's no direction to go but up.

Balin stands, his hand slipping away. “You should come up and see Dain,” he says. “He's been asking about the situation with Bilbo's earlier theft and banishment and I believe you can explain much better than I.”

Thorin takes a deep breath; the mention of the past event makes his heart ache and he recalls the strange looks he'd received from the Iron Hills dwarves for treating a supposed traitor with love and affection. Yes, things needed to be cleared up, and hopefully doing so will give Bilbo a stress-free environment when he wakes up.

He stands and follows Balin out of the room, leaving his love to his sleep.

–

Dain is found on the throne of Erebor, speaking to an Iron Hills soldier with Fili standing at his side.

Thorin and Balin walk in at a leisure pace, no real hurry in their walk, and when Dain finally spots them he waves the soldier off and stands. “The King of Carven Stone makes his appearance,” he remarks with a big, familiar grin as he steps down from the throne. Fili follows, putting them all on the same level. “And I thought you'd stay down there til spring at least!”

Thorin gives his cousin a fond smile. “I'm glad you're well, Dain,” he says, and while he feels slightly annoyed with the lord for giving Fili his new attitude, there's true meaning behind his words. “And thank you for taking charge while I could not.”

“It's my pleasure, cousin. It'd be a shame for Erebor to be in shambles so soon after her reclaimation.” Dain pauses before saying, “I've been meaning to ask you about this situation with your burglar.”

“Aye, that's why I came.” Thorin rolls his shoulders back, taking a deep breath. “Bilbo Baggins is no traitor.”

“He stole the Arkenstone,” Dain argues. “Gave it to Bard and Thranduil. Why not a traitor?”

“He did it to get the men and elves on our side,” Thorin says. “I was not right in the mind. The gold sickness had a strong hold on me and when I declared him a traitor, it was out of madness and irrational anger. I was greedy, paranoid and saw betrayal where there was none. Our burglar has been nothing but an asset and this journey would have surely failed in its early stages without him and his cleverness.”

Dain looks at him for a moment. “And he is your One?”

“Without a doubt.” Thorin's returned gaze doesn't waver.

“Then a congratulations in is order.” Dain smiles with approval and Thorin relaxes. “A hobbit and a dwarf – I can't say I've heard of it.”

“There's a first for everything.”

Without exchanging words, Thorin and Dain begin walking down the pathway side by side, leaving Balin and Fili to follow. “How is Kili?”

“Alive and awake,” Thorin says. “I suppose you know the healers declared him unstable.”

“I heard. Would you call it accurate?”

Thorin hesitates. “He's been damaged. The battle has taken its toll on him. But I think he can improve with support and care. Bilbo's fall left a bad impact and I believe his wakening will help.”

“I hope for the best. He's proved himself to be a valuable warrior.”

Thorin nods, letting his thoughts drift towards his sister-son. He should really visit soon; the look on Kili's face when he left...

“We sent chests of gold to Bard and returned Thranduil's gems,” Dain says, and he looks firmly at Thorin as they walk towards the healing halls. “The elves are bringing food and the men are bringing in enough fish for no one to starve.”

A small part of Thorin aches at the thought of giving away their treasure but he pushes it away with force. It's necessary, he knows, and the gold can be replaced once the mines start up again. It was greed that caused so many casualties, after all.

“Good,” he says, and Dain seems to relax at that statement. “Have we hunters of our own? It would be good to not rely so heavily on others.”

“We'll put together a group of able dwarves who are willing to go,” Dain says. “Perhaps you should go with them and get some fresh air.”

“I'd prefer to stay with my One.”

Dain doesn't argue and instead stops to look out at the injured dwarves with a sigh. “This will be a tale told for generations,” he says. “Thorin's Company and the Quest for Erebor. I'm sure many dwarflings will be falling asleep to it.”

“I'm sure our scribe is working on it,” Thorin says. A smile comes over at the thought.

–

Thorin watches with diligence as Kili sips the chicken soup's broth. He wishes the boy would just take a spoonful of the actual food but Kili stands firm, claiming that he _is_ ingesting what they're giving him.

Arguing doesn't help.

Thorin sets aside his own empty bowl and wipes his mouth with a napkin before asking, “Have you left this room at all?”

Kili shakes his head. “Barely left the bed.”

The king frowns. Before the quest, he would have perhaps taken Fili's approach; anger and arguing, forcing Kili from the room. Lately, however, it seems as though the curtain has been pulled back on many things and he knows that hurting Kili with his words won't help. Instead, he takes the boy's hand and squeezes.

“Why do you talk to me and not the healers?”

Kili doesn't miss a beat with his answer. “You understand. No one else does.”

“Understand what?”

Kili looks at him. “Everything that comes after the battle. Everything that's going on in my head – all the feelings... right?”

Kili's eyes begin to shine and Thorin takes a deep breath. “I think I do,” he says; he's spent time wrestling with his own demons, after all.

“Fili doesn't. The healers don't. They don't bother.” The prince sets the bowl on the bedside table and wraps his arms around his knees, taking a deep and shaky breath. “I-I want Amad. I want Bilbo.”

Thorin doesn't hesitate to pull Kili into his lap like a dwarfling, squeezing him gently; he's alarmed at how thin Kili has become. “Your mother will come and Bilbo will wake,” he says, brushing Kili's bangs from his face. “And both of them would hate to see you in such a condition. Starving yourself and staying in bed all day will do nothing to help you feel better.”

“I can't stomach it,” Kili says, looking up at Thorin with pleading eyes through wisps of dark hair. “It just comes back up later and I can't keep it down. I'm _trying_.”

“I know,” Thorin says, and he takes a deep breath as he presses his forehead against Kili's. “I know you are.”

It's late in the mountain and Thorin's eyes are beginning to shut, his body aching for rest, but he doesn't want to leave Kili. He listens to the footsteps of the patrolling guards outside and rubs circles on his nephew's back; he remembers nights like these, before Smaug came. When all was quiet and he could feel safe in his bed, hearing Frerin's snores from the next room and the chatter of the guards outside.

“You'll tell me when Bilbo wakes, right?” Kili whispers.

“Of course. Though, you'll have to come see him. I doubt he'll have the strength to come to you.”

“I'll get up,” Kili promises, and again they fall into comfortable silence.

Thorin loses track of time for awhile and finally looks down when he hears Kili's breathing even out. He gently lays the boy in his bed and pulls the covers up; when he stands, he stretches and then nearly jumps when he sees Fili standing in the doorway.

“Two minutes,” Fili says, answering Thorin's unspoken question.

Thorin nods and turns out the room's lantern before walking to the door. “How are things with Dain?”

“Good.” Fili follows him out of the room. “... Does he really trust you and not me?”

“He's hurt, Fili, and it's not a physical hurt. Your lack of experience with this sort of thing is showing quite obviously and it seems your priorities have shifted.”

It comes off harsher than Thorin intended and he frowns at Fili's wince. “I know how both of you are feeling,” he tries. “Neither of you are in easy positions and those positions happen to clash. You are running a kingdom while his mind is in turmoil. But you _need_ to have that compassion back and understand that he would stop hurting if he could.”

Fili is quiet for a moment before asking, “What do I do?”

“Talk to him. No fighting, just talking. Spend time together if he'll allow it, and fix your bond.” Thorin sets a hand on his shoulder. “There is no point in being a leader if you cannot hold onto the ones you love.”

“But, I...” Fili stares at him, seemingly at a loss for words; then he sucks in a breath before turning away. “Goodnight, Uncle,” he says quickly before walking off.

Thorin stares after him in confusion before finally heading back to his own room for sleep.

–

It's been a long day, he thinks to himself, as he sits at Bilbo's bedside. And tomorrow is another.

He runs his thumb over the back of Bilbo's limp hand and rubs at his eyes; he really can't stay awake much longer but he wants to spend some time with his hobbit before retiring for the night.

“Kili needs you,” he says. “He's in such despair after the battle. Fili, too, even if he shows it differently. And _I_ need you, more than I've ever needed anything in my life.”

The only response is Bilbo's soft breathing. Thorin sucks in a breath and reminds himself that he can't allow his hopes to get up so high, that Bilbo won't magically wake up because Thorin spoke to him. The world isn't so kind.

He sets Bilbo's hand back and stands, exhausted and ready to collapse. “Wake soon, my love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's forehead before he turns and walks to the door.

He spares one last glance back, memorizing the picture.

A soft noise escapes Bilbo and his hand twitches, catching Thorin's full attention. At first, he's about to turn away, taking it as another false sign.

“...rin.”

Thorin's heart leaps into his throat and he crosses the room to the bed. “Bilbo?” he whispers, taking the hobbit's hand.

Bilbo's eyelids flutter with movement before finally they open, and Thorin again sees the spring green color he fell in love with.

“'Rin,” Bilbo repeats again, his voice hoarse from disuse and his eyes unfocused, staring up at Thorin blankly.

Thorin shouts for the healers, joy filling his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Bilbo wakes, but what are the effects of his sleep?
> 
> I've been trying to find descriptions of someone waking from a coma but there's no description of it being anything different than simply waking up like you would from regular sleep. I'm trying to portray the process as accurately as I can, so stick with me.


	3. Improvement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo suffers side affects from his coma, but Thorin is more than happy to care for him.

Thorin grips Bilbo's hand as Oin examines the hobbit, trying to calm his thumping heart. Bilbo's eyes are hazy and his energy seems to be at near zero, just barely able to follow the commands given to him.

Oin's examination is quick, asking Bilbo to lift and flex certain parts of his body to see what's functioning, dormant or in pain. Every few minutes a coughing fit will break out and Thorin will be quick to hand him a cup of cool water, soothing his dry throat.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers, his heart aching at the sight of Bilbo so weak and pained. “For doing this to you. I see now that you were right about it all.”

“... Th-rin,” Bilbo gasps, his hazy gaze turning to Thorin. “... Y-You...”

Both Thorin and Oin stop to listen. Bilbo's lips move but no sound comes out and instead he makes a distressed whine from his throat.

“Don't stress yourself now, laddie,” Oin says, pressing the back of his hand to the hobbit's forehead. “You'll have time later. Do you want to sleep now?”

Bilbo closes his eyes and nods. Oin steps back, then walks to the door, gesturing for Thorin to follow. Thorin hesitates, looking at Bilbo before obeying.

“Is it safe for him to go to sleep again?” Thorin asks, crossing his arms.

“Whether he sleeps regularly or goes into the coma again, this is good. The damage isn't severe. He may have to relearn to speak properly and we'll need to test his memory when he feels up to it. I'll have someone check on him.”

Thorin breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally getting somewhere.

“Get some sleep, Thorin. You're exhausted.”

Thorin doesn't have the energy to argue. He nods his thanks to Oin, then walks off towards his own chambers, his heart soaring with the knowledge that Bilbo isn't beyond reach.

–

_ He holds Bilbo tightly in his arms, pressing the smaller body against his own in a protective embrace. His eyes are closed but he does not sleep; his mind is far too awake. _

_ He must protect the treasure from the Lakemen and the elves; and Bilbo as well, for the preciousness of the hobbit and the treasure goes hand in hand. Whatever happens, he is determined to emerge with both in his possession. _

_ Bilbo shifts, his breath just loud enough for Thorin to hear the tremble in it; he squirms to adjust himself, facing away from the king. _

_ Thorin squeezes him. “Awake?” _

_ Bilbo starts, a tiny gasp escaping him before he looks back at Thorin. He's pale and looks shaken. “... Yes,” he whispers. “Just a nightmare.” _

_ Thorin presses a kiss to Bilbo's neck. “About what?” _

_ Bilbo hesitates. “Smaug,” he admits, as if it’s a forbidden word. “I just… keep hearing his voice. Taunting me.” _

_ “Smaug lies at the bottom of the lake,” Thorin says, pulling the hobbit back against him securely. “He cannot harm you.” _

_ “I know,” Bilbo says. “But it won’t leave my mind.” _

_ It irritates Thorin to know that Smaug continues to plague Bilbo even after his death, and he wishes that he hadn’t allowed his hobbit to enter the mountain on his own; while things did work out, and the beast is dead, he would rather have Bilbo sleep easy. _

_ Bilbo turns over, pressing his face into Thorin’s shoulder. “He talked about you,” he says tentatively. “About how the gold sickness would hurt you. That you would sacrifice me for the gold.” _

_ “Never,” Thorin snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended. “You have more value to me than this mountain, Bilbo Baggins. Don’t think so low of me, that I would toss you aside for gold.” _

_ Bilbo looks up at him, his amber eyes shining in the torchlight. “I don’t,” he whispers, setting a hand on his chest. _

_ Thorin notices the way he bites his lip nervously, the frightened look behind those lovely eyes. For a moment, he wonders if perhaps he’s the cause, but the thought is brushed off as impossible. How could his One ever fear him? _

\---

Thorin wakes from the dream in a cold sweat that leaves him shivering. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his chamber, taking deep breaths, before covering his face in his hands.

He shouldn’t have let himself fall to the sickness. He shouldn’t have hurt Bilbo. He wishes he could do it over and change the end.

_ He glared at the hobbit with building fury. “You dare betray me, halfling?” He spat, the word tasting like venom in his mouth. “After all that’s happened…” _

_ Bilbo looks at him with fear clouding his expression, taking a step back. _

The memory makes his chest ache. He takes another deep breath, his skin tingling, and lays still; after a moment of silence, he sits up.

His legs are tangled with the blankets, which is hanging off and more on the floor than the bed. Wiping sweat from his neck, he untangles himself and gets out of bed.

His own senses tell him that it’s nearly dawn, and a pair of soft footsteps walking past his chamber supports it. Silent, he begins to dress.

Once his boots are laced up, he walks out of the door. He passes only two servants on the way to Bilbo’s room.

When he steps into the room, he heads straight for the candle, turning the switch to cast a dim glow that is just enough to light up the room. He turns to look at his hobbit; asleep, curled up, peaceful.

Thorin slumps into the chair beside the bed and doesn’t hesitate to run his fingers through those beautiful brown curls, now straw-like and oily with lack of a proper washing. Bilbo’s face is pale, his eyes appearing sunken, and he’s beyond skinny for a hobbit; it hurts Thorin to think that Bilbo has been reduced to a pitiful creature because of him.

A soft sound comes from Bilbo, like a cough but strained, and the hobbit’s eyes flutter open; his eyes are still a vivid amber color, almost glowing in the lantern’s light. It takes a moment, but he manages to focus his gaze on Thorin, squinting. “Thorin?” he asked softly.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whispers in response, cupping Bilbo’s cheek with care. His other hand slides the lantern further away, to not hurt the halfling’s eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“T…” Bilbo stops and swallows hard, looking strained as he does so. “.. Tired.”

“Are you sore anywhere? Want water, or…”

“Water,” Bilbo says, and Thorin gets up immediately to fetch it; within a minute he returns with a goblet full of water, reaching to urge Bilbo to sit up.

He has to adjust the pillows for Bilbo and help him physically sit up, but after a few moments, the hobbit is sitting up and sipping the water. Thorin watches him carefully for any aches or pain, but Bilbo seems to only be tired, his eyes drooping shut every few moments.

“Do you remember the battle, Bilbo?” Thorin asks, his hands sweating. He hopes Bilbo remembers what happened on the wall - only so he won’t have to go through the agony of retelling him what had gone down. The battle, he can recall without issue, but the wall…

“B-Bits,” Bilbo stutters, again swallowing with difficulty. “In… In Dale…”

“Do you remember being on Ravenhill?” Thorin asks.

Bilbo shakes his head.

Thorin hesitates. “I’ll ask Oin if he thinks we should talk about it.” Better safe than sorry.

“I… want to know.”

“You just woke up from comatose, my love,” he says, gently taking the goblet from Bilbo when it’s handed back to him. “You have enough trauma on the physical side.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo pleads, and it comes out so hoarse and desperate that it makes Thorin’s heart tighten and ache.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead, running his thumb over his cheek. “Everyone is alive,” he says. “All of the Company members survived. Azog is gone. Erebor is ours, and it’s all owed to you.”

Bilbo gazes at him with those gorgeous eyes. “Ours…”

“Ours.” Thorin plants a chaste kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you and this Company through. I’m sorry for it all.”

Bilbo gives a small smile, looking at him. “It’s okay. All okay.”

Guilt still weighs on Thorin’s heart but Bilbo’s words lighten the load. He brushes stray curls from the hobbit’s forehead before asking, “Do you want a bath?”

Bilbo nods, taking a deep breath as he does.

\----

His mind is moving so slow Bilbo might have thought he had been drinking to the edge of passing out. Instead, he’s wide awake and being carried by the dwarf king he had come to love.

He has no idea where they’re going, though a bath is what he wants right now. He rests his head against Thorin’s shoulder, pressing himself into the king’s strong embrace and relaxing into it.

Thorin pushes open a door and Bilbo turns to see where they’re going; they walk into a bedroom and he feels himself being placed on a soft bed.

After a moment, a lantern sparks to life on the bedside table, and it’s bright enough that Bilbo can see the room; the blankets of the bed appear to be kicked off and the pillows strewn messily across the bed.

With the lantern in hand, Thorin picks Bilbo up again and they walk to a room branching off the bedroom; it’s small, but with the lantern Bilbo can clearly see it’s a bathroom made in very dwarven style.

Thorin turns some knobs and within moments, water is gushing out of the faucet and into the tub. Bilbo reaches out and sticks his hand in the water; it’s a bit hotter than he’d like, but far from scorching.

“They had the plumbing working yesterday,” Thorin says, gently wiping a smudge from Bilbo’s cheek. “By this time next year, things will be functional again. I hope you’ll stay to see it.”

Bilbo looks at Thorin, trying to think of whether he not had made the decision to stay or go, but thinking that hard was giving him a headache and instead he let the matter pass.

With the tub full, Thorin shut the water off. “Do you want to undress on your own?”

The question makes Bilbo flush just a bit and he bites his lower lip. “C-Could you… do it?”

Though it’s embarrassing to him, Thorin doesn’t seem phased, instead pulling his tunic off with a gentle tug.

When his smallclothes come off, his cheeks feel hot; he looks down at himself and nearly makes a whine in this throat, startled to see how much of a skeleton he seems to be. He can see his bones through his skin and he looks up at Thorin, who is looking at him sadly.

“We’ll get food in you as soon as you can take it,” Thorin whispers, before picking him up and gently submerging him into the water.

Bilbo closes his eyes, groaning in pleasure at the feel of the water; his weak and tense muscles relax in the warmth and he lets it come up to his ears.

Thorin takes a sponge and begins to scrub at Bilbo’s skin with care; the grime that’s built up since his last bath comes away easily, dirtying the warm water. He then takes a glass bottle of a white cream and after wetting Bilbo’s hair, starts to rub the shampoo into it.

Bilbo moans, feeling Thorin’s fingers rub it into his scalp. “O-Oh… Mmm…”

Thorin presses a soft kiss to his forehead before he rinses his hands and takes a silver bucket from the floor, encrusted around the rim with rubies and sapphires. He fills it with the warm bath water and tilts Bilbo’s head back, carefully pouring it to rinse the shampoo from the hobbit’s curls.

“I feared I had lost you,” Thorin says in a soft, vulnerable voice, scooping more water. “That you were beyond my reach, before I could apologize. Before I could fix my mistakes.”

Bilbo looks at him, startled by the miserable expression the once-proud king wears. “Th… Thorin...:”

“You said you love me.”

Bilbo can only stare at him.

Thorin lets the bucket float and he takes Bilbo’s hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “And I haven’t had the chance, yet, to tell you that I love you so, so much, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo sucks in a breath, his heart seeming to pound in his chest. “I-I thought…”

“I don’t want to think about what happened on the wall. My mind was clouded and my greed outweighed my love for you.” Thorin cups his cheek. “And I swear on my honor that nothing will ever outweigh it again. I only hope that you both forgive me  _ and  _ accept me as yours.”

“O-Of… of course,” Bilbo says quickly, his throat feeling dry. “Of  _ course _ .”

He sees the relief in Thorin’s gaze before the king’s lips are on his in a light but passionate kiss, and he lets himself melt into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. It's been a while.
> 
> School's been hectic. I've been working on this for two weeks after finally opening my documents again and gave my attention to both this and one of my Newtmas fanfics. Anyway, I'll do my best to pick this up.

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be Thorin-centric and follows his point of view throughout the tale. Fili and Kili aren't exactly main characters but they'll be a large part of the focus for the next chapter or so. Updates will be slow because of chapter lengths and busy schedules.


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